The Bertrams. Anthony Trollope
Читать онлайн книгу.
no. He offered it on the condition that I should be an attorney."
"An attorney! and you with a double-first?"
"Ah, he does not much value double-firsts. Of course, I was not going to make myself an attorney."
"Of course not. But what is he doing about an allowance for you?"
"He has been very liberal. He has given me a hundred and fifty a year—"
"Yes; and sent me the bill of it—with great regularity."
The son did not remind the father that all regularity in the matter had ended there, and that the bills so sent had never been paid; but he could not help thinking that in justice he might do so.
"But that expense will soon be over, sir, as regards either you or him. The allowance will be discontinued next year."
"What! he is going to stop even that school-boy's pittance?"
"Why not, sir? I have no claim on him. And as he has not forgotten to tell me so once or twice—"
"He was always a vulgar fellow," said Sir Lionel. "How he came to have such a spirit of trade in his very blood, I can't conceive. God knows I have none of it."
"Nor I either, sir."
"Well, I hope not. But does he expect you to live upon air? This is bad news, George—very bad."
"Of course I have always intended to go into a profession. I have never looked at it in the same light as you do. I have always intended to make my own way, and have no doubt that I shall do so. I have quite made up my mind about it now."
"About what, George?"
"I shall go into orders, and take a college living."
"Orders!" said Sir Lionel; and he expressed more surprise and almost more disgust at this idea than at that other one respecting the attorney scheme.
"Yes; I have been long doubting; but I think I have made up my mind."
"Do you mean that you wish to be a parson, and that after taking a double-first?"
"I don't see what the double-first has to do with it, sir. The only objection I have is the system of the establishment. I do not like the established church."
"Then why go into it?" said Sir Lionel, not at all understanding the nature of his son's objection.
"I love our liturgy, and I like the ritual; but what we want is the voluntary principle. I do not like to put myself in a position which I can, in fact, hold whether I do the duties of it or no. Nor do I wish—"
"Well; I understand very little about all that; but, George, I had hoped something better for you. Now, the army is a beggarly profession unless a man has a private fortune; but, upon my word, I look on the church as the worst of the two. A man may be a bishop of course; but I take it he has to eat a deal of dirt first."
"I don't mean to eat any dirt," said the son.
"Nor to be a bishop, perhaps," replied the father.
They were quite unable to understand each other on this subject. In Sir Lionel's view of the matter, a profession was—a profession. The word was understood well enough throughout the known world. It signified a calling by which a gentleman, not born to the inheritance of a gentleman's allowance of good things, might ingeniously obtain the same by some exercise of his abilities. The more of these good things that might be obtained, the better the profession; the easier the labour also, the better the profession; the less restriction that might be laid on a man in his pleasurable enjoyment of the world, the better the profession. This was Sir Lionel's view of a profession, and it must be acknowledged that, though his view was commonplace, it was also common sense; that he looked at the matter as a great many people look at it; and that his ideas were at any rate sufficiently intelligible. But George Bertram's view was different, and much less easy of explanation. He had an idea that in choosing a profession he should consider, not so much how he should get the means of spending his life, but how he should in fact spend it. He would have, in making this choice, to select the pursuit to which he would devote that amount of power and that amount of life which God should allot to him. Fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, guardians and grandfathers, was not this a singular view for a young man to take in looking at such a subject?
But in truth George was somewhat afflicted by a tête monté in this matter. I say afflicted, because, having imagination and ideality to lead him to high views, he had not a sufficient counterbalance in his firmness of character. If his father was too mundane, he was too transcendental. As for instance, he approved at the present moment, in theory, of the life of a parish clergyman; but could he have commenced the life to-morrow, he would at once have shrunk from its drudgery.
They did not understand each other; perceiving which, Sir Lionel gave up the subject. He was determined not to make himself disagreeable to his son. He, at any rate, intended to make him no allowance, to give him no fortune, and was aware, therefore, that he had no right to interfere otherwise than as his advice might be asked. Nor indeed had he any wish to do so, if he could only instil into the young man's mind a few—not precepts; precepts are harsh and disagreeable—a few comfortable friendly hints as to the tremendous importance of the game which might be played with Mr. George Bertram senior. If he could only do this pleasantly, and without offence to his son, he would attempt nothing further.
He turned the conversation, and they talked agreeably on other matters—of Oxford, of the Wilkinsons, of Harcourt, and by degrees also a little of uncle George.
"What sort of a house does my brother keep at Hadley—eh, George? Dull enough it used to be."
"Well; it is dull. Not that he is dull himself; I can always talk to my uncle when he will talk to me."
"Sees no company, I suppose?"
"Not much."
"Never goes into society?"
"He dines out in London sometimes; and sometimes gives dinners too."
"What! at taverns?"
"Yes; at Blackwall, or Greenwich, or some of those places. I have been at his dinners, and he never spares anything."
"He doesn't feel his years, then? He's not infirm? no rheumatism or anything of that sort—strong on his legs, eh?"
"As strong as you are, sir."
"He's ten years my senior, you know."
"Yes, I know he is. He's not nearly so young a man as you are; but I really think he is as strong. He's a wonderful man for his years, certainly."
"I'm delighted to hear it," said Sir Lionel. A keen judge of character, however, scrutinizing the colonel's face closely, would not then have read much warm delight therein depicted.
"You rather like him on the whole, then—eh, George?"
"Well; I really think I do. I am sure I ought to like him. But—"
"Well, George; speak out. You and I need have no secrets."
"Secrets, no; I've no secret. My uncle has a way of saying too much himself about what he does for one."
"Sends in the bill too often—eh, George?"
"If it is to be a bill, let him say so. I for one shall not blame him. There is no reason he should give me anything. But situated as I have been at Oxford, it would have been almost absurd in me to refuse his allowance—"
"Quite absurd."
"When he knew I was coming out to you, he made Pritchett—you know Pritchett?"
"And his handwriting—very well indeed."
"He made Pritchett put three hundred pounds to my credit; that was over and above my allowance. Well, I did almost make up my mind to return that; as it is, I have not touched it, and I think I shall repay it."
"For